For Centuries
by WritingIsHardBro
Summary: Lydia Martin always thought she got the short end of the stick being a banshee. Never though did she feel expendable in her pack-until e was tired of being left out, excluded. They didn't want to include her? See how they fair without her. Little did she know what effects shuffling aside the few friends who understood her issues would have on her.


"Dude, have you talked to Lydia recently?" Scott asked as the two friends were flopped on the floor of Stiles' room, studying for an Econ test.

"Not since we got back to Mexico last week." He responded, looking up from his textbook, keeping his head resting on his fist as he did so. "I tried calling her when we got back, but she didn't pick up. Left her a voicemail though." Stiles shrugged, turning his attention back to his textbook.

"Don't you think she would've called at least? She knew that we were in trouble-I bet she could even feel it. At least a text message bro." Scott sat up, shutting his book. Stiles looked up, moving to sit up as well. Sure, he was slightly concerned when Lydia didn't show up before they headed off to Mexico, but he had his Dad go check up on her. After he'd unhand cuffed him from the desk, The Sheriff had told him everything that had happened, confirming that Lydia was fine.

But looking at the concerned expression clearly defined on the alpha's face, Stiles nodded, "I'll go talk to her tomorrow. I'll even get to school early so that she can't avoid me. I'll be that loser waiting for her at her locker, alright?"

Scott nodded, "Good...I'd talk to her myself, but she's more herself with you."

Stiles scoffed, throwing a notebook at Scott's head. "Shut up and do your homework McCall."

* * *

><p>The next day Stiles did as he promised and was waiting bright and early at Lydia's locker. He wasn't as worried about the situation as Scott seemed to be, Lydia had been through a lot over the past year. She'd lost her best friend, her grandmother and on top of all of that she was dealing with her banshee powers hitting her at full blast, the girl deserved some time alone. Never the less, if Scott was worried, Stiles would be the best friend and make sure that their friend was alright.<p>

He spotted her down the hall, her bag swinging beside her and the sound of her heels echoing throughout the hallway. She was rustling around in her purse, looking for something that was obviously important-to her. She didn't even notice him until she was standing right in front of her locker and also standing right in front of Stiles.

"Hey Stranger."

Lydia's head whipped up, locking eyes with Stiles before her mouth turned into a scowl. "What Stiles?"

"Oh wow, did it suddenly get cold in here?" Stiles retorted, his arms crossing as he rested against the locker.

"I'm not in the mood Stiles, go away." Lydia answered, focusing on opening her locker rather than him.

"What's with the cold shoulder Lydia? Is it because we left you here when we went to go save Scott and Kira? Because I wanted to wait for you, but we didn't have time to spare. I sent my dad to make sure you were alright though."

Lydia had her books out her locker by the time he had finished talking, giving him a criticizing glare before brushing past him without a word. Stiles stood frozen for a moment, his mouth opening and closing before spinning around and rushing after the banshee, his temper rising by the minute.

"Lydia, What the hell is your problem? You're acting like a bitch. If we did something wrong, just freaking tell us so we can apologize. We're a pack, we forgive each other! We're a family, and if we did something wrong, you need to tell us." Stiles babbled, following after her, "I know that you've been through a lot this year, what with Allison dying, your grandmother dying and dealing with your banshee issues, but it's like I said talk to us! Lydia, please talk to us. We're her-"

Finally Lydia had enough and grabbed his arm, pulling him into an empty classroom, anger and irritation clear in her eyes.

"You wanna know why I'm mad Stiles? Why I don't want to talk our _'pack'_? Because in the past few weeks, it's become very clear to me that I'm expendable. All I'm good for is telling you when someone is in danger or about to die, that's the only time I ever seem to get a call about a pack meeting. When the deadpool was out, I was worth 20 million dollars and I was always alone. I don't have claws, accelerated healing or strength to defend myself. If an assassin had come for me I would've been dead. Did I tell you that at one point I did think an assassin was coming into my boathouse? You know what I was planning on using as a weapon. A fucking boat paddle. And last week, when you all were in Mexico, you said goodbye to Argent, once again without me. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to him. I'm clearly the least valuable member of this stupid little pack, so you know what? I'm done with it. Somebody else can take that spot. I'm out, consider me done with all of you. Don't talk to me anymore, I don't want to be the pack's little bitch." Lydia took a deep breath, repositioning her bag before turning on her heel and stomping out of her classroom.

It wasn't that she didn't love her friend, because god she did. But it just felt like ever since Allison died she was out of place. She felt excluded and just alone, and she had hit her breaking point. Lydia couldn't deal with all of this at once, so for her, it was better if she just cut what she considered the problem out all together. Sure, she couldn't cut out the banshee part of her all together, but she could do her best to ignore it.

* * *

><p>Stiles stood alone in the room in absolute shock. He couldn't believe that Lydia had just said any of that to him, let alone meant any of it. Eventually he heard his phone buzz, snapping him out of his stupor. He decided not to mention the...conversation with Lydia to Scott yet. If she didn't sit with them at lunch, then he would know.<p>

But he was almost positive that in the heat of the moment, she'd exploded and said things that she didn't mean. There was no way in hell that actually thought she was expendable to them. They all loved her, and each and everyone of them would be absolutely devastated if something happened to her. She may not want to be part of the pack anymore...but that didn't mean they wouldn't love her like a pack member.

* * *

><p>That day at lunch Stiles sat down with his tray, eying the exit from which he expected Lydia to come out of.<p>

"What the hell are you looking at Stiles?" Malia asked, moving to block his view of the exit.

"By the way, did you talk to Lydia?" Scott raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of his apple.

"Yeah, I did." He answered, trying to look around Malia's head. He caught a glimpse of strawberry blonde pass the exit, and the familiar sound of heels against tile, and he knew that Lydia had been serious. She didn't want to be friends with them anymore, and that very thought alone made him lose his appetite. However, the rest of his friends didn't know what had happened yet. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and explained the entire situation to the rest of the table.

When he was finished, all of his friends were silent, until finally Kira spoke up.

"Well, we have been leaving her alone a lot lately."

"I think she's being unreasonable. We've all had stuff to go through-we can't be by her side twenty four seven." Malia stated, shrugging and taking a bite of her pizza.

"Yeah, but Lydia's been through the worst of it all." Stiles answered, looking over at Malia. "She didn't want us there all the time, just some of the time."

"...God, we're horrible friends." Scott whispered, rubbing his forehead.

"If you guys are so upset, go fix it. Talk to her." Malia pointed out, raising a brow.

Little did they know that that was easier said than done.


End file.
